


Nighttime Discoveries

by RedFive



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hand Jobs, Hannibal Still Hates Molly, Highly Dubious Consent, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Sleeping Will, Will Digs Hannibal's Suits, so say we all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 07:45:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5907913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedFive/pseuds/RedFive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While tending to Will's injuries following the fall, Hannibal gets a peek at some of Will's fantasies when Will starts talking in his sleep. It's too good of an opportunity to resist, and a patient's needs must be seen to after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nighttime Discoveries

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, here is my very first Hannibal fic. I hope you enjoy!

Will slept while Hannibal tended to his broken and bruised body. In his moments of consciousness, Will was inarticulate. His eyes refused to focus on Hannibal when Hannibal spoke to him. It was difficult to admit, but he was afraid that Will was gone permanently.

Fear. It was a funny feeling. He'd been afraid of Death as a boy and afraid for his sister Mishka, but never since. He had seen the ugliness that Life had to offer and consumed it. After that, there was nothing left that could make him afraid. Yet as he and Will fell, fear had reintroduced itself. Hannibal had been terribly afraid in that moment, but not of his own end. There was something else in his world now that he desired, and it was about to be taken from him. Yes, Hannibal could again feel fear, and what he feared most was that if Will's condition did not improve soon, he'd have to put his friend down like one of the dogs Will loved so much.

Thankfully on the fourth day, Will began to speak. There were moments of lucidity: simple requests for water or food. Sometimes it was only Hannibal's name spoken nervously when Hannibal was out of Will's line of sight. However when Will slept—and he slept most of the time—he raved in incomplete sentences against shadows and dreams. In the times that Hannibal was not busy with preparations for their departure, he lay besides Will speaking to him like a patient whose personality he was trying to overwrite. Only that was not his aim this time. Instead of trying to bury memories, he was trying to reach them.

When Hannibal slept, he never slept well. Will's constant thrashing made it difficult to fall into a steady REM sleep. So it was not surprising when Hannibal found himself waking from a pleasant dream of a cinnamon spiced flank steak who had been a wine sommelier before he was a second course. During the night, Will had thrown off his sheets and lay sweating and shivering besides him. "Always caught between two extremes. What trouble you make for me, Will." Hannibal said bemused. He reached across his patient's body to pull the cotton sheet back over him. As he did, Will rolled towards him unconsciously seeking the warmth that Hannibal's body threw off. 

He snorted and pushed up onto his elbow to look at Will better. "All this time trying to bring you closer to me, and all I had to do was put you in an icebox."

The unconscious man did not respond, but Hannibal, in his self-indulgeant examination of Will, noticed some interesting changes since he had put him to bed. Will fidgeted but did not thrash like he was still quarreling with his demons. His breathing was irregular, but strong, and there was something else mixed into the scent of sweat that hung in the air—something that made Hannibal's blood pump a little faster. 

With the back of his index finger Hannibal slowly drew a line down Will's torso stopping just below his navel. The soft moan that escaped Will was as sweet as a child's scream. Hannibal could feel Will's penis brush the back of his hand and his hips gave a little thrust in answer to Hannibal's touch. He waited to see if Will would wake, but the younger man did not. If anything, he seemed to fall deeper into whatever fantasy he was having as Hannibal rubbed his thumb around the the circumference of his tip. A little precum leaked into his hand, but Will was still half soft to the touch. Hannibal had not intended to take advantage of Will in this way, but he reasoned that neither of them would get any sleep unless this matter was taken care of, and truth be told, he wanted this for his own selfish reasons. After three years chained behind the asylum's walls, the monster within him was begging to stretch his legs. Hannibal moved his hand down the shaft.

Will pitched his head back as Hannibal palmed his testicles. "Molly," Will said in a strained voice, "stop."

Hannibal glared and resisted the urge to give Will's sensitive parts a sharp twist. He let go and threaded his fingers through Will's hair. "Molly is not here right now. It is only me."

"Hannibal," Will said through a sharp exhale, but he did not try to pull his head free. 

"Is that all right?" He asked, careful to keep his face close to Will's skin but never touching.

"Yes," Will said barely loud enough to be considered a whisper."It's fine. Isn't that funny?"

"Hilarious," he said grumpily. So many years of painstaking work and rejected overtures was hardly amusing, but now was certainly not the proper time to press that particular point. He could be patient yet, for a little while longer at least. Hannibal gently pulled Will's head back so he could see his face better, and in doing so, exposed Will's neck. Hannibal watched the blood pump through his veins imagining that this must be what Dracula felt when he at last held his beloved Mina. He wanted to lean down and nibble on that snow white skin, but he restrained himself. He was a man half-starved from his time in isolation, and he hated Will a little for that. He had to be cautious or he might bite just a little too hard. "How does this make you feel?"

Will's eyes opened lazily, but Hannibal could not say with 100% certainty that he was conscious. "Like I'm burning." He said before his eyes fell shut again.

Hannibal smirked. Good, he thought, at least I don't suffer alone. "I can help you with that." He said untangling his fingers from Will's mop of curls. He spit into the palm of his hand and reached for Will's erection.

Will stretched into the first few strokes, but then began to twist and buck. "No." He said with his hands on Hannibal's chest pushing against him. "No, I'll mess up your suit."

Hannibal paused. He was, of course, dressed for bed—shirtless and wearing black silk pants. Endearing as it was to discover that Will's reluctance came out of concern for one of Hannibal's prized suits and not the intimacy of the moment, it confirmed what Hannibal suspected: Will was locked away in one of his fantasies again. Knowing that made this moment something of a Pyrrhic victory, but for now, Hannibal was content to be a part of those fantasies instead of being confined to Will's nightmares. 

"I don't care about the suit." He said patiently and continued to caress Will. Hannibal went slow so he would not rouse Will from his dreaming, and for himself, it gave Hannibal time to study Will closely while performing the duties of a lover rather than torturer. Will did not stop squirming, but as the minutes passed he began to push in more often than he pulled away. Hannibal positioned his leg between Will's thighs, and lifted Will's hand away from his chest. "This hand," Hannibal said, "do you still fantasize about killing me with it?" 

Will grew very still although Hannibal could feel the muscles in his legs twitch. "Yes," he said.

Hannibal kissed the thickest part of his palm. "Good," he said and took the same spot between his teeth. Will groaned as Hannibal bit down. He traveled up and down Will's wrist biting and sucking as Will moved against his leg at his own pace. Hannibal's own breathing was heavy and hard, a sure sign of his waning control. He snarled when he felt the sudden rush of warmth against his abdomen as Will spent himself knowing it meant that he must stop too. He lingered only long enough for Will's body to still and his breathing quiet. Hannibal slipped out from underneath his bedmate and moved to the door. He'd like to have stayed to see Will's reaction when he woke, but he knew it was time to withdraw. How much would he remember? Would the stain on the sheets trigger some fragment of memory, or was this experience now just a part of their turbulent past—a what might have been, which existed only in Will's mind? Hannibal closed the door behind him, and left to take a cold shower.


End file.
